


Up Against Your Will (Under The Killing Moon)

by wintermute



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Biting, Blood, Coulson Lives, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Halloween, Hurt/Comfort, Knotting, M/M, NaNoWriMo, bottom!Phil, bottom!clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 17:40:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1034494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintermute/pseuds/wintermute
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It took Phil years to convince Clint that his "condition" isn't something that he needs to protect Phil from, that being a werewolf doesn't make him any less human than he has always been. Clint wants so badly to believe Phil, wants to believe that he can still have a normal life, or as normal as working for SHIELD can be. But when they give in to one night of careless passion, the consequences of their actions may change all of that...</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Phil took a deep breath and leaned forward to catch Clint’s face in his hands. Clint’s entire body was sheened with sweat, and even in the dim light Phil could see that his eyes were a lighter shade of sky blue than his normal blue-green, and there was a small tuft of grey fur between his eyes, a barest hint of a coat over the back of Clint’s normally smooth arms and all the way down his spine. He was still human, only with some animal features that looked like special effects make up, and he was the most beautiful creature Phil had ever laid eyes on. “It’ll be okay, Clint.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Up Against Your Will (Under The Killing Moon)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Kisleth](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kisleth) for the beta and [totalnerdatheart](http://archiveofourown.org/users/totalnerdatheart) for the read through and cheering!
> 
> Title from “The Killing Moon” by Echo and the Bunnymen. Based on an anon prompt on tumblr, who wanted C/C werewolf AU. Sorry I couldn't get it done sooner! It was a lot longer than I thought it would be :P

It was yet another full moon. Phil could feel the air change and shift around him as the sky began to turn orange with the setting sun. They were driving up into the woods of Upstate New York, towards the cabin Fury had set up for them three years ago.

Had it been three years already? Phil let out a sigh, fingers tightening over the steering wheel as he drove on over uneven path. Clint was snoring lightly in the back seat, his large frame curled up across the seat with an afghan tucked around his body. He looked exhausted, having just come off mission a couple days ago. There was still a large bruise that bloomed a sickly yellow on his bicep, and a butterfly bandage holding a cut closed on his forehead.

The timetable of the op had been extended and extended again for no good reason by the agent in charge. It’d been a rare mission where Phil had to reluctantly loan Clint out for something sensitive that required his level of precision, and Phil had planned on having some stern words with Stenton about sticking to mission timeline. In the end, Clint had called it into Fury, who knew about Clint’s condition, and told him to either tell Stenton to move faster or find another sniper. Phil didn’t want to think about what Clint’d had to go through to wrap up the mission and come back to base just in time; he knew Clint would leave most of that out of his after action report.

Clint stirred as Phil pulled up and slowed to a stop right in front of the cabin.

“We here?” he asked groggily, his hands rubbing at his eyes as he arched his back and stretched out his cramped muscles.

“Yep, we’re here,” Phil threw the car into park and looked towards Clint’s reflection in the rare view mirror. “Come on. Let’s get you settled in. The sun’s almost down.”

Clint grunted but he obeyed and climbed out of the backseat, making his way to the trunk.

Working silently, they grabbed everything from the back of the SUV and headed up the steps into the cabin. Phil went around checking the supplies as Clint started a fire in the fireplace. The weather had started to turn cold, and while the cabin had a generator in the back, they both preferred to have a fire at the same time.

“Everything looks good,” Phil said when he came back into the living room. “We’ll be fine for at least a week.”

“You should go,” Clint was hunched where he sat on the floor in front of the fire. He gazed into the flames but Phil could tell that he wasn’t paying attention to the fire. “I’ll be fine on my own.”

“We’ve been through this, Clint. I want to stay. I told you when we got together that I’d never let you deal with things like this alone. I’ve got your six, always.” Phil sighed, moving to sit down next to Clint. “I love you, Clint. I know it’s not something that you’re used to, but that’s what love is, to be there for each other no matter what.”

Clint slid a fraction closer to Phil, leaning into him and letting his head drop onto Phil’s shoulder. “I just don’t want you to get hurt,” he said, quietly, his voice already a low rasp, a little less human. “This thing, it’s a curse. What if I couldn’t control myself? What if I bit you?”

“Then we’ll be a matching set,” Phil quipped, trying to lighten up the moment. It wasn’t particularly successful but Clint huffed out a bitter laugh.

“You think Fury would let us borrow those force field generators then?” Clint asked with a chuckle. “It’d be the best field testing ever.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” Phil smiled, letting his fingers dance over the small of Clint’s back before rising to his feet. “I’m going to go make some dinner. You should eat first.”

“Yeah, sure.” Clint shrugged, getting to his feet as well. “You need any help?”

“Nah, just gonna stick the steaks over the fire and mix up some potatoes and salad.”

“Sounds good.”

 

~*~

 

After the quick supper, Clint shut himself into the smaller bedroom. Phil looked at him with worry, but he didn’t stop him. Instead, he made himself comfortable in the living room with his tablet and waited. His thoughts drifted off to three years ago, to the day when everything changed for them.

It’d been a routine mission tracking down and taking out a drug lord in Eastern Europe with Hydra connections. He and Clint had only been together six months at that point, and Phil had only been toying with the idea of asking Clint to move in with him. Their entire team had been hiking through some dense woods towards their extraction point when Clint stopped them abruptly.

“Wolves,” Clint had whispered, telling everyone to get out their guns. They waited, shivering in the cold but alert to the danger. They were in the middle of nowhere at the foot of a mountain. There was no human activity near by, which was why Hydra had picked this place for warehousing. The team managed to scare off most of the wolf pack, but not before a much larger wolf came out of nowhere and took a chunk clean off of Clint’s shoulder. It had been a miracle that Phil managed to hold Clint together until they were picked up. Phil was sure that he’d lose Clint with the amount of blood literally pouring out of him.

It took a few weeks for Clint to heal enough to be discharged from the med bay, and Phil jumped at the chance to move Clint (temporarily) into his place while he continued to heal.

It was a month after the wolf that things took a turn for the weird and bizarre. The days approaching that one-month mark, Clint had been growing steadily more irritable for no apparent reason. Phil could tell that Clint was equally as frustrated at his inability to control his own temper. Clint’d been cleared by psych before he’d been released into Phil’s care so neither of them could think of anything that could explain Clint’s change in behavior.

The night of that first full moon, Phil would always remember until his dying days. They’d decided to take a few more days off to go camping at the state park and let Clint shoot at things without restraint. It wasn’t like either of them didn’t have enough vacation days to spare.

Phil had been woken suddenly by a heart-stopping howl, so close to their tent, it sent Phil scrambling for his shotgun. It was then that he noticed Clint had been missing. Phil had nearly panicked before his training kicked in and he began to look for clues as to where Clint had gone.

He crawled out of the tent, found a flashlight, and was ready to go down the path to where Clint’d been shooting earlier in the day, when a large wolf jumped out of the woods into his path. Phil had the gun aimed at him, ready to fire, before he realized what he was seeing. There were tattered clothing wrapped around the wolf—Clint’s clothes. Phil hadn’t been sure that it was Clint, but he could only think of the one possibility when he remembered that there hadn’t been any wolf sightings in the area in decades.

It was one of the single most terrifying thing Phil had ever experienced, standing there in front of his lover and caught between being mauled to death or having to shoot him. It had been sheer luck that he tripped over Clint’s quiver, and remembered that Clint had gotten some new tranq arrows from R&D to try out. It took two very well aimed stabbing with arrows before he was able to take Clint down and tie him up.

It’d been an uphill battle since then, trying to convince Clint not to pull away. After Phil and Clint had briefed Fury on what had happened, Fury had sighed and told Clint to report to med bay so R&D could take blood samples. Then he’d tossed them the keys to the cabin, and Phil had never been so grateful of his long time friend.

Clint, on the other hand, had been subdued the entire time until they were back at Phil’s place. Clint had marched in and began packing his things up. Phil had tried to stop him to no avail. It had taken everything Phil had to convince Clint not to break up with him.

And now, three years later, they’d finally settled into a fragile balance. R&D had been unable to come up with a cure, but they were able to give Clint an enzyme that allowed him to better control his transformations. He was less prone to wolfing out during full moons, but he still experienced the mood swings and urge to bite.

In the past, Clint had never allowed Phil to stay anywhere near the cabin, especially before the enzyme. Phil would drive him up and leave him there for the duration of the full moon after making sure there was enough supplies and that Clint wouldn’t accidentally—or intentionally—hurt himself. However, this was all about to change. It’d taken Phil a long time but he finally managed to convince Clint to give it a try. Clint had protested his choice but Phil didn’t want to let Clint go through this alone anymore. Whatever happened this time, Phil would be there for Clint.

 

~*~

 

The sound of something being thrown and breaking against the wall stirred Phil from his thoughts. He looked over at the clock on the mantle, which told him it was well past midnight. He went to Clint’s door and knocked. “Clint? Babe? You all right in there?”

When there was no reply, Phil pushed his way into the room, worried.

It was dark inside, with only a lamp on the nightstand casting a soft dim glow over the immediate area around the bed. It took Phil a minute to realize that Clint was huddling in the far corner of the room, his eyes wild and teeth sharp, but still human shaped.

Phil moved closer to Clint, “Clint, baby? What’s wrong?”

Clint practically whimpered as he curled in on himself tighter, as if that would stop himself from hurting Phil, intentional or not. “’m fine.”

“What do you need?” Phil stepped closer, and Clint hissed at him.

“Don’t come any closer!” Clint growled, his voice a low rasp and barely human. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself.”

“It’s okay, Clint,” Phil said calmly, pausing before sliding closer even more slowly. “Just tell me what you need.”

Clint’s shoulders shook as he whimpered again, “Please...”

It was then Phil realized what Clint was doing, the way Clint was hunched over and his arms flexed as he moved. He remembered what Clint had told him, that he was always horny when he wolfed out. Something to do with the animal instinct to mate.

Phil moved until he was standing right in front of Clint’s prone form and knelt down next to him. “Come on, Clint. Let me help you. Please?”

“Oh, God, Phil. You have no idea how much I want to let you,” Clint let out a painful, snarly chuckle, his hand still moving over his thick length, rock hard and flushed red. “But I don’t know if I can control myself enough to... I’m barely holding on as it is.”

Phil took a deep breath and leaned forward to catch Clint’s face in his hands. Clint’s entire body was sheened with sweat, and even in the dim light Phil could see that his eyes were a lighter shade of sky blue than his normal blue-green, and there was a small tuft of grey fur between his eyes, a barest hint of a coat over the back of Clint’s normally smooth arms and all the way down his spine. He was still human, only with some animal features that looked like special effects make up, and he was the most beautiful creature Phil had ever laid eyes on. “It’ll be okay, Clint.”

“What if I changed? What if...” Clint turned his face, scraping his stubbled chin over the palm of Phil’s hands, and sobbed. “I can’t…”

“You’ve told me before that with the drugs you were able to maintain human thought even when you half-changed,” Phil said, and Clint nodded. “You’re stronger than anyone I know. I trust you.”

“The problem is I don’t trust myself.” Clint leaned forth, nosing at Phil’s neck, his hands gripped hard around Phil’s biceps. “Oh god, you smell so good, Phil. You need to leave; I don’t know how much control I have left. I can’t hurt you.”

“You won’t.” Phil reached up to brush Clint’s hair back, feeling Clint arch his head to follow the caress. “I know you won’t. Do you trust me?”

“Always,” Clint growled.

“Then let me take care of you,” Phil pulled Clint close enough to press a kiss to his eyebrow, where there was a near invisible scar from a knife fight from many years ago.

Clint choked back a sob, but he nodded.

“Shh...” Phil cooed, pulling Clint into his arms and rose to their feet. Phil pulled Clint back towards the bed, letting Clint push him into the soft duvet with a shove.

Phil knew he was playing with fire, quite literally, but it only felt right to lie there and be devoured by Clint’s bruising kiss. Their lovemaking had always been passionate, but there was a brutal edge to Clint’s movements now that was turning Phil the hell on.

It was dangerous; even with the enzyme suppressing most of the physical changes, Clint’s psyche could still be tainted with animalistic instincts and urges that his human mind couldn’t completely ignore. Clint was strong as a human, and would only be stronger in his affected state. He could black out and tear Phil apart without wanting to do so.

Even so, Phil wanted to give Clint this. Wanted to show him that he loved him no matter what and that he didn’t care about what he had become.

Clint nipped at Phil’s skin, at the juncture of neck and shoulder, the place that Clint himself had been bitten. His hands roamed and gripped at the muscle underneath and Phil arched up into Clint’s every touch, grinding his hardening erection into Clint’s thickness. Clint pawed at his clothes, sharpened fingernails shredding the material and pulling them away. Phil reached up to hold Clint’s face again. “Clint, baby? Stay with me.”

Clint paused, his eyes filled with fear and horror as Phil rolled them over. Knowing that Clint kept supplies in his pack, Phil climbed off of Clint, with lingering touch and gentle, soothing murmurs, to find the lube.

As soon as Phil was back on the bed, Clint’s hands were him, possessive and firm, holding onto him, fingernails digging into skin. He watched intently as Phil prepped and stretched himself. In the past, Clint had preferred bottoming, enjoyed feeling the burn of being penetrated the next day like a sweet reminder, but Phil could tell that it was about the furthest thing from Clint’s sex addled mind. Phil had had three fingers in his ass before he carefully extracted them, held onto Clint’s cock and sank down.

Clint felt thicker than normal. Phil held onto his pecs for leverage as he rode Clint, the position allowing the deepest penetration. It took a few thrusts before Phil could begin moving faster.

Clint’s fingers were around the back of Phil’s neck, pulling him down for a kiss, their tongue fluttered and danced for dominance. It was like drowning in a sea that was Clint, making him burn with arousal; Clint’s scent was stronger, musky and rich and turning him on. He could feel a rolling wave of electricity shooting up his spine, sending his entire body alight. Phil arched his back up so he could bury his head to the crook of Clint’s neck and bear down on on Clint’s cock, losing himself in Clint and the way Clint’s fingers curled around his hips, pulling him down harder.

They moved in tandem, Phil riding Clint as Clint pummeled up into him. Phil was breathing short and fast, could barely think when Clint pulled out suddenly, flipped Phil down on all fours before thrusting back into Phil in one smooth move. Phil barely had time to process their change in position before Clint gripped Phil’s hips, pulling him back onto his hard length.

Phil let himself float with the sensation of Clint fucking hard into him. He could feel the sharp edge of Clint’s teeth ghosting over the back of his neck. Clint was panting and swearing and growling incoherent sounds of pleasure. His body caged Phil’s, and all Phil could feel was Clint, around him and inside of him.

Clint’s sharp teeth grazed against Phil’s neck as his thrusts became more and more erratic. His cock dragged over Phil’s prostate with every slide, overloading Phil’s senses. The pleasure coiled at the base of his spine, and the only thing Phil could think about was how close he was as Clint overwhelmed him.

With one last thrust, Clint buried himself into Phil with a feral growl. Phil could feel the base of Clint’s cock thicken further, and it took him a long fuzzy moment before he realized what was happening, the physiological change to Clint’s body during a full moon—Clint was knotting him. That’d never happened before during their normal lovemaking. Phil could only assume that it had something to do with Clint’s suppressed transformation. He shuddered, and Clint growled again, his knot growing larger, tying them together.

“Oh god, Phil, I can’t... I need to...” Still straining, Clint’s voice was rough, barely intelligible. He was draped over Phil, holding onto the headboard so he wouldn’t crush Phil with his muscular frame. Clint didn’t seem to know what exactly was happening; he was still Clint, the same stubborn, beautiful archer Phil loved, but he seemed overwhelmed by the primal instincts of the animal part of his brain to claim, to take, had no choice but to follow them.

“Take it, whatever you need, just take it, my love. I love you, Clint.” Phil managed with Clint’s knot stretching him more open than he’d ever been. It’d hurt, but there was a sweetness to the pain, and Phil moaned loudly to the aching pleasure it brought.

“Oh god, you smell amazing, I can’t...” Clint whimpered as they both moved just a little more than they should. He nosed at Phil’s neck, at the skin just below his ear, taking large gulps of air and Phil’s scent. “And you taste so sweet. I can feel your blood rushing underneath the skin, calling to me.”

“Do it,” Phil was beyond caring now. He’d never felt so connected with Clint before in their relationship. If this could bring them closer, Phil was willing to let it happen. “Bite me, mark me yours.”

“I can’t, Phil. I can’t!” Clint cried out, still resisting. He licked at the curve of Phil’s neck, his sharp canines dragging over thin skin. “Oh god, I want to. So badly.”

“Do it. It’s okay,” Phil cooed softly, coaxing Clint to bite down just a little harder, to break the skin and draw blood.

And then they were there, sharp teeth slicing open the delicate skin of his neck. Clint bit down hard, his teeth pointed and gripping onto Phil’s neck like a vice.

Phil could feel the blood flowing freely down his neck, Clint’s teeth shredding the skin there. He thought it’d be more painful, but it’d only stung briefly before all he could feel was just a sense of rightness, of being claimed… of _home_. It only took a few strokes of his own hand and then he was coming, crying Clint’s name, Clint’s knot still buried in him, long, hot spurts of his come filling him.

 

~*~

 

The smell of blood lingered in the air when Clint came to. There was brief moment of feeling sated before Clint’s brain came back online and his eyes blinked open, startled. He scrambled up from where he was wrapped possessively around Phil. His cock was still half inside Phil, flaccid now that the urge had been sated temporarily, and it slipped free of Phil’s hole when he rose to sitting.

He brought up both hands to rub at his face and temple. There were fragments of images in his head of him biting into flesh, tasting the sweet tang of blood on his tongue. He remembered licking at the bite wound on Phil’s neck. _Oh, God_ , Clint’s mind raced. What had he done? His hand trembled as he reached for Phil’s shoulder, dreading the feel of cold flesh. He let out a long sigh when it was clear that Phil was still warm-skinned and breathing, and not mauled to death by Clint in the heat of the moment.

Leaning over to check on Phil, Clint found him snoring lightly, the rise and fall of his chest steady and even. There was a trickle of blood oozing out of the bite, but it’d closed enough to be a mere flesh wound and not at all life threatening. Clint let out a sigh of relief, lying back in a heavy heap.

He lay there for a long moment, mind racing, until he couldn’t stand it anymore. He rose from the bed, did his best to clean the bite up without waking Phil, before throwing on some clothes and padded out to of the room.

The instinct to run and hunt was still there in the back of his mind, calling him to the woods as the moon loomed just above the western horizon. That, combined with the guilt and shame and the urge to flee, was almost overwhelming. It took every bit of training he had ever done and every meditation technique he knew to bat it back and not let it take over. He threw on a parka to shield himself from the cold and stepped outside onto the porch.

The air was chilled, but he scarcely felt it even with the jacket wide open and exposing half of his naked chest. There was this jolt of energy coursing through his body when he eyed at the moon, dipping even lower now. He could feel the edge to his canines, lengthened and sharp along with his nails, and the thin coat of fur that extended down his spine prickled with every sound of the woods.

Clint wanted to howl, to sob and cry and attack something just to shred it to bits. He wanted to give into the werewolf instinct to stalk and hunt and kill. It made him sick to his stomach (or maybe that was the blood… Phil’s blood…) just thinking about losing his humanity.

He felt like the monster he’d become. He’d hurt Phil, the one person who’d never given up on him, who brought him back again and again despite how much he’d screwed up in the past. Phil, who was cold and logical and competent at work but warm and soft and cuddly at home, who liked junk food and bad TV. Phil, who was everything good in his life, and Clint had gone and turned him into the same monster he was.

Talk about returning the favor.

There was no patio furniture on the front porch, seeing as the place barely saw use on a monthly basis. Clint sat down by the far corner and curled up into a tight ball below one of the living room windows. It was the farthest corner from where Phil was lying asleep in the bedroom. He would’ve left, would’ve run away to a place where he wouldn’t hurt anyone, but he couldn’t, so he opted to stay as far away from Phil as possible.

Not that the damage hadn’t already been done, Clint thought dejectedly. One deep bite on a full moon was all it took to turn someone, regardless of whether he transformed or not.

Fury was going to kill him; Clint wanted to know if silver bullets were necessary. Apparently most of the werewolf lores were wrong. Werewolves had heightened senses and healing abilities, but it still took time to heal. He wasn’t immortal or invincible, and he could be killed. Sometimes Clint wondered if that was the only reason why Fury hadn’t locked him away in a cage like the animal he’d become. Phil would’ve never allowed that to happen, Clint knew, but maybe that would’ve been the smarter choice back then. Maybe then Clint wouldn’t have the chance to…

Clint shook his head. It was all up to Phil now. He might be a screw up but he was no coward. He’d face his mistakes head on, and take whatever retribution Phil would dish out.

Resting his chin on his knees, Clint looked up at the moon forlornly. How did he come to believe that he could still have a normal life after this curse of his? How did he become so complacent with the generosity Phil’d shown him even after knowing about his condition?

He curled in closer to himself, wrapping himself tight enough in the parka as if it’d make everything okay, and tried to lull himself to sleep.

 

~*~

 

Phil must’ve passed out because when he came to, the sky was a dark, hazy pink of early dawn. He was alone in the bed, and there was a sweet ache in his body that could only mean one thing.

He shifted on the bed, then hissed when his movements tugged at the wound on his neck. He gingerly dabbed at the torn flesh with his fingers, which came away with only a small smear of drying blood. Phil hummed as he rubbed it between his fingers.

Clint was nowhere to be found, the space he’d clearly occupied before empty and cold. Phil sat up and stretched, ignoring the twinge at the base of his spine. Looking around for his clothes, he sighed when he saw them in tattered heaps on the floor. Instead of hunting down clothing in Clint’s room, he wrapped the dirty sheets around him like a toga to go outside and search for fresh clothes.

Once dressed, Phil looked for Clint. The cabin was too quiet; there wasn’t even the sound of breathing or snoring.

Phil’s first instinct was that something had happened to Clint, that someone had taken him, before he remembered that no one besides Fury knew where they were. The cabin was so remote that they’d gotten lost the first time they came here.

He pulled on his jacket and wandered out the door to check, thinking that maybe Clint had gone for a run. He didn’t expect to find him curled up in fetal position on the porch, huddling while he slept fitfully.

Phil crouched down and reached for his shoulder, shaking him. “Clint? Babe?”

Clint grunted then shivered, having woken up in the cold. He rolled towards Phil’s warmth and nuzzled at Phil’s wrist before his eyes blinked open. He scrambled away towards the outer edge of the porch faster than Phil could say anything.

“Clint?” Phil could see, even in the dim morning light, that the wolfish features were still there, but fading as the sun rose. “What’s wrong? Why are you out here?”

Clint shook his head, refusing to look at Phil, until Phil moved closer, reaching out for him. Phil cradled Clint’s face in his palms and gently pressed a kiss to Clint’s forehead.

“Hey, come on. Let’s take this inside, hmm? It’s fucking cold out.” Phil tugged Clint into standing then ushered him back into the cabin’s warmth. “Were you sleeping out there?”

Clint nodded, his eyes down cast. He looked terrible, like whatever sleep he’d managed hadn’t done a thing to take away the exhaustion. Phil pulled him towards where the fire was now mere embers. He added a few more logs and some newspaper, prodding it until it flared again before returning to Clint’s side, pulling him down on the couch. Clint was pressed against his side, and went willingly when Phil pulled him into his arms.

“Talk to me, Clint. Please?” Phil asked, but he waited patiently for Clint to decide what to do or say.

There was a long silence before Clint snuggled closer into Phil, shuddering breaths ghosting over Phil’s collar. “Oh, god, Phil. I’m so sorry,” Clint muttered with his head buried into the crook of Phil’s neck. “I didn’t mean to... Oh, God, what have I done?”

Clint’s body was trembling in Phil’s arms. It took Phil a moment to realize that he was crying.

“Clint, baby, look at me.” Phil brushed his knuckles softly against Clint’s distraught face. “It’s okay. I’m okay with this.”

“But I bit you. Do you know what that means?” Clint’s eyes were closed, like he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. “I did this to you, I made you the same kind monster I am. After all that you’ve done for me, this is how I repay you!”

Phil sighed. “First of all, I did what I did because I love you. So get it through your thick skull that I’m here to stay no matter what,” Phil pressed a kiss to Clint’s forehead. “And I wanted this. I’ve always considered this to be a contingency plan. You’re not a monster, Clint,” Phil said, his voice serious. “You’re a human being with some unique circumstances. And now, so am I.”

“But… but I…” Clint began, but Phil cut him off with a finger to his lips.

“No buts, Clint.” Phil leaned in and pressed a kiss to Clint’s lips, tasting a trace of a tear that’d slid down his cheek. Above them, the first light of dawn glowed through the curtained window. The golden hue reflected brightly in Clint’s eyes, the electric blue fading slowly back to the kaleidoscope green blue Phil knew and loved. “Do you know what felt when we were… rutting, earlier?” Clint shook his head and Phil continued. “I didn’t feel panic, or fear. All I felt was a sense of rightness, of being settled.”

Phil smiled when Clint’s eyes widen in surprise. “I felt so connected to you, in a way that I had never imagined I could before. This is a gift you’ve given me, Clint.”

“I… I’ve never thought of it like that before,” Clint said dumbly, like he was completely awestruck. “I’ve always treated it like… a disease, something that made me… less.”

It was Phil’s turn to shake his head at Clint. “You’re exactly who you’ve always been. Being a werewolf doesn’t take away from that. If anything, it adds to who you are.”

Clint was quiet, subdued, and Phil said nothing except to hold him tight, and enjoy the moment of closeness.

After a little while, Phil found himself nodding off with the warmth of the fire and his lover in his arms. “Clint?” Phil gave Clint the lightest squeeze and shake. “What do you say if we go back to the bedroom and get a bit more shut eye? We’re going to be here for another day. I think we use it as a well deserved vacation while we’re at it?”

“Sounds good,” Clint answered with a stretching yawn then froze mid stretch. “But my room is a mess still.”

“Yeah, I know,” Phil grinned. “We can use the other room.” Phil gave himself a sniff, “And a shower.”

Clint finally cracked a laugh. “Man, Fury’s so going to be pissed at me for turning his best senior agent into a werewolf,” Clint muttered while they made their way into the main bedroom. “If he decides to put a collar on me or lock me up in R&D, you’re going to have to come save my bacon, okay?”

Phil watched Clint, amused. “He wouldn’t. He’s going to whine about both of us needing down time every month, but he’ll get over it. Eventually.”

It was strange, how Phil found himself accepting his new state of being so easily, but it hardly mattered. What was important was that he’d finally broken through the walls Clint had built up in the wake of becoming a werewolf. There was still plenty to work through, and there was Fury that he’d have to deal with, but none of that scared Phil.

The sun finally rose through the top of the hill across the valley, and the entire cabin flooded with a golden hue. Phil held onto his lover tightly, and it felt like a new beginning.

 

~*~

 

Clint was exhausted, heart sick and aching even though he was so numb he couldn’t feel anything anymore.

Loki (it still gave him a rush of panic and fear whenever he thought of his name) and his invading forces had been banished weeks before, but Clint still couldn’t regain the balance that he’d came to rely on.

The funny thing was that he had _liked_ the quiet of being under the Tesseract’s control. There was no noise, not even the howling of the wolf inside of him could break through, only Loki’s command to follow. He knew it was wrong to like it, but the blissful quiet was so damn enticing. If it hadn’t been for the wolf fighting to break free the entire time, he was sure he would’ve killed Fury and Natasha both, and Loki would’ve succeeded.

None of that mattered, though. Phil was gone, and along with him, everything Clint had.

He’d toughed it out after he woke up in medical with the worst hungover known to men, Natasha at his side, her sad eyes and quiet despair telling him everything he needed to know. He was good at compartmentalizing; he got work done. He fought with the rest of them, killing alien after alien with accuracy and precision, using the focus to anchor himself. If he hadn’t, he wasn’t sure what he would’ve done.

After the battle was done and the war won, though, Clint fell apart. He managed to keep it together until they saw Thor off in Central Park with his deranged brother and that damn space cube, but after Natasha had dropped him off at his and Phil’s apartment, he broke down. He barely made it through the front door before he was sobbing, his back sliding slowly to the floor just inside their door. He couldn’t bear looking at the living room, where everything held a reminder of his loss.

His heart lay shattered in a million pieces, and he couldn’t do anything except curling up on himself and cried, not caring that he was on the cold floor in the middle of the front hall. The denial came crashing down along with the anger and melted swiftly into depression. Clint couldn’t bring himself to do anymore than just lying there pathetically like an old dog at the end of its life.

After he’d cried his tears dry, he drifted from room to room in the dark of the apartment, going through things on automatic.

Eventually, he found the hard liquor they kept in the kitchen cupboards. Clint drank himself to a stupor, sitting there on the floor, leaning against the couch, until a gentle hand pulled a bottle out of his grasp. Clint thought it was Natasha at first, coming back to make sure he hadn’t offed himself, and was ready to tell her off, when he came face to face with an eye patch.

“Barton.”

“Sir?” Clint said, his voice filled with pain and resentment. It was inappropriate, but Clint couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d wanted someone to pay for letting Phil confront Loki alone, and Fury was there and a convenient target. He wanted to rip into him, tear him to shreds so he could feel just what Clint felt when he heard the news.

“Have you seen the footage?”

 “No.” Fury’s question wasn’t one Clint’d expected. Of course there was footage of Phil dying. Clint hadn’t had the courage to track it down and see it with his own eyes. “I couldn’t.”

Fury sighed. “Well, that’s something.”

“Any reason why you’re in my apartment at—” Clint glanced at his phone. “Two in the morning?”

“Are you forgetting what day it is?”

“It’s the fucking twenty-third—” Clint’s words came to a complete stop. “Ah shit.”

He and Phil had taken a couple of days off to the cabin a week before the whole thing went down. He’d forgotten about the upcoming full moon completely while he grieved.

“Clean yourself up and take some time off,” Fury said, his one eye gazing steadily into Clint’s two, as if trying to tell him something with his arched eyebrow and deliberate tone. “You’ve been cleared by Psych to leave, but it’ll be a while before we can sort out everything.”

Clint knew that Fury was referring to the attack he’d led on the helicarrier. If that had been anyone else, they’d already been taken in and held in detention for questioning, mind-controlled or not. He wasn’t sure if he was getting a free pass because Fury trusted him, or because Fury couldn’t afford to have him go feral and do more damage to the helicarrier.

Clint nodded, not looking the proverbial gift horse in the mouth. “You’re going to have to turn the perimeter up high. I doubt medical or R&D have the man power to set me up with the correct dosage right now.”

Ever since Phil had let Clint turn him, they had been forgoing the enzyme, opting instead setting up an force field around the cabin so they could stay out in the woods in their wolf form. It was strangely liberating, trotting around on all fours in the moonlight. There was something about the two of them together that settled them both, making them less feral when transformed, so there hadn’t been any issues.

This time, though, it was going to be different, Clint thought bitterly.

“I’ll make sure things are set up for your arrival.” Fury nodded before getting up and heading for the door. “Take care of yourself.”

“Don’t I always?” Clint gave him a sad excuse of a smile, to which Fury arched an eyebrow and snorted.

 

~*~

 

The sun was setting by the time Clint arrived. The cabin was like a second home for them, transformed from a simple wood shack to a comfortable getaway over the years. Clint pulled up in an SUV and parked right in front of the steps like they always did. Fury had said he’d make sure the cabin was stocked, but Clint still brought some of the essentials he knew he’d need.

He must’ve been really out of it because he’d only noticed that something was different when he’d opened the door and made his way inside.

The place was well shielded in the woods, and maintained a comfortable coolness in the summer despite the heat. Even then, a few of the windows had been opened, particularly the ones in the kitchen, like someone had been airing out the cabin.

It couldn’t have been the poor sucker Fury had sent to set things up; they knew to not be around when Clint arrived.

Deciding that being cautious was better than the alternative, Clint set down his pack and slid out the knife he kept in his boots, holding it parallel to his forearm before moving to clear the rooms. He wanted his bow but he didn’t want create any noise to spook whoever’d broken into their cabin.

The living room was empty save a couple of book lying haphazardly on the coffee table. Those hadn’t been here the last time. There were a few things in the kitchen counter that were normally stored in the pantry. A carafe of coffee sat in its hotplate, warm to the touch when Clint reached out to feel.

A crashing sound came from the direction of the main bedroom. It was muffled, like it was from the en suite with the door closed. Clint moved silently over the threshold into the bedroom just as the bathroom door opened.

Clint nearly dropped his knife when he saw who was in the bathroom.

“Clint…” Phil whispered.

His face was pale and a little gaunt, and he seemed to have lost weight, but it was unmistakably Phil. Clint breathed in deep, taking a big gulp of air laced with traces of Phil’s familiar scent. “Phil…”

Oh, God. Those were the only two things he could think of; _Phil_ and _oh, God_.

“You’re here,” Phil said, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “You’re really here.”

“Phil…” Clint’s eyes were brimming with tears as he muttered Phil’s name, and he had to physically relax his fingers to drop the knife with a heavy clang. H wanted to make his way to Phil but his legs refused to cooperate.

Which was just as well because Phil was at his side in an instant, wrapping him in those strong arms that Clint thought he’d never feel around him again.

“How… how are you _alive_?” Clint asked, his words stuttering with hitching breaths. “How is that possible? Steve said…”

“Oh, God, Clint,” Phil buried his face into the crook of Clint’s neck, breathing in deeply as the tension bled out of his entire body in a blink of an eye. “God, I missed you. So much.”

Clint let Phil drag him to sit on the bed then slowly pull off his muddy boots and socks. When they were both comfortably lying on their sides, face to face, Phil spoke.

“I thought I was a goner, back on the helicarrier.” Phil reached over to pull Clint so he was lying on half on top of Phil in a full-body cuddle. “You were taken, and I couldn’t get you back. I had to… I didn’t know what I was hoping to do, I just knew that I needed to stop Loki so I could get you back.”

Phil’s voice shook when he continued. “I was lying there, bleeding out, and Nick was standing over me. I thought I was going to die and I wouldn’t get a chance to say I love you one more time. I remembered blacking out, and then I woke up on the way to medical. I think I scared a lot of people with that.”

“How…” Clint lifted his head from Phil’s chest to gaze into his soft blue eyes. “Why didn’t Fury tell me this before?”

There was shock, and not a little anger at the fact that Fury had kept this from him, but Clint could only feel grateful that at least Fury had the sense to not keep them apart, and that was all that mattered.

“I don’t know; I don’t even know how I survived. The best the doctors could guess was the werewolf genes. They must’ve kept me alive all that time even if I was clinically dead.” Phil shook his head. “If it wasn’t for that, I’d probably be dead. As it were, it took me only two weeks in the infirmary to heal after they stitched everything back up. I’d lost some muscle tone recovering but everything is mostly back to how it was before…”

Clint kissed Phil for the first time since he arrived, shutting Phil up for the moment. He needed the connection to Phil to convince him that this was all real, that this was really happening. All Clint could think about was how the thing he’d always seen as a curse had saved his lover’s life.

Frantic lips devoured each other, and it was a long moment before Clint slowly pulled away, gentling the deep kiss to a simple press of lips. “Phil—”

“Ssh…” Phil hushed, running fingers through Clint’s hair, down his neck where the trail of fur had begun to appear now that the sun had set. In a couple of hours they would fully transform, but they had time, for now. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m right here. I’m never leaving you again, I swear.”

Phil began to babble words—promises—into Clint’s flesh with each kiss he peppered over every inch of Clint’s exposed skin. Clint arched into his touch, needing more than words to reassure him.

Phil’s kisses and touches grew frantic, which set Clint off as well, clawing and grasping at Phil’s shirt.

They were not gentle, ripping apart the layers in the way to get to warm skin. Clint arched his body when Phil began kissing his way down, sharpening nails leaving red welts on Phil’s back that would be healed by morning.

“God, Phil.” Clint gasped when Phil took his already hard cock into his mouth. “Oh, fuck.”

Phil hummed his approval of Clint’s scent, which was always a bit earthy, with a little of Phil and metal mixed in, and now, heavy and musky with arousal. Clint had to scrabble at the sheets, gripping what he could find hard so he couldn’t thrust up into Phil’s mouth.

Phil’s mouth was hot, so hot, and Clint yelped when Phil swallowed him down, taking him in so deep Clint thought he was going to lose his mind. Then Phil sucked his way up, pausing his lips around the crown of Clint’s cock and let his tongue tease at the slit, then Clint really lost it this time, crying out and jerking his hips up, looking for release. “Oh, fuck!”

“Fuck, Clint,” Phil growled, his chest heaving with each breath. “Can I? God, I need to be inside you—”

“Yes! Anything! Phil—” Clint could barely reply, his mind halfway gone. “Whatever you want, babe. Anything.”

Phil’s fingers trailed up Clint’s thigh and found his hole, already spasming with need. Clint nearly whimpered when Phil’s thumb pressed firmly against his hole, sinking in just a little, the dryness giving a little burn with the stretch. He surged up and pulled Phil into a bruising kiss, whispering breathy “come on, come on,” as he released Phil’s mouth and touched their foreheads together.

Phil materialized a tube of lube from somewhere, and poured a generous amount onto his fingers before smearing them over Clint’s ass. Clint buried his head to Phil’s neck, nuzzling at the long column while sucking and nipping at bits of skin, making Phil as his with his kisses. Phil’s fingers were insistent and firm as they breached Clint, who let out a whine and a sigh when two fingers slipped right in and began to press against the inner wall.

“God, you’re still so tight, but you want me so much, don’t you?” Phil’s voice was a low raspy growl now, a little less human than normal. “You ass sucking at my fingers like they don’t want me to pull away.”

“Yes, oh, fuck, Phil,” Clint’s voice was no better, low and rough, as Phil began to thrust and stretch in earnest. And when Phil’s curled fingers touched on a spot inside of him, Clint damn near arched off the bed with a loud gasp, bearing down and taking Phil’s entire two fingers into him. His cock twitched and a small spurt of pre-cum dribbled down onto his abdomen, which Phil lapped away eagerly, humming.

Soon, Phil had four fingers thrusting into Clint, who was slowly being taken apart and could only writhe helplessly on the bed.

Clint couldn’t focus on anything except for the sound and scent of his lover, with the ink and coffee that was ever present, the slight prickle of blood and fading sickness, and the slight bit of Clint mixed in. He couldn’t stop the single tear from sliding down his eye, wetting the pillow behind him. “Phil… Need you…”

“Yes, babe. Anything,” Phil grunted between each word, answering Clint’s plea before pulling his fingers out. “Hands and knees,” Phil commanded, but reached out to help Clint flop onto his front.

As soon as Clint was in position, Phil gripped his hips with both hands and slid home in one steady and firm thrust. Clint was ever so glad that they’d decided to forego condoms, since neither of them could contract anything anymore, and the feeling of Phil’s thick, bare length inside of him was simply amazing. They both groan loudly when Phil hit home, his heavy balls nestled against Clint’s perineum.

For a moment, they simply stayed that way, Phil’s front plastered over Clint’s back, his cock deep in Clint’s ass, his lips nipping at Clint’s jugular, but that was not enough. Not nearly enough. Phil gripped his hands over Clint’s shoulder and hip, pulling out half way then rammed straight in, pulling a satisfied moan out of Clint’s lips.

“Oh fuck, Phil… harder!” Clint cried out, pushing his ass further back to meet Phil’s thrusts. His voice had a edge of desperation that made Phil thrust faster and harder, an almost punishing speed.

With a few more thrusts, Phil stilled behind him, frozen in place as his knot began to fill, tying them together, before he slowly lowered himself on top of Clint’s back. Carefully letting Phil roll them over to their sides, Clint whimpered with every nudge of his prostate by the head of Phil’s cock, and the pleasant burn of being stretched wide open by Phil’s knot.

Clint’s own cock was hard as steel, the bare hint of a knot at the base as Phil wrapped his fingers around him. It only took a simple slide of Phil’s hand to set him off, crying out Phil’s name while spurting long ribbons of white cum all over Phil’s hands and the sheets beneath them. Inside of him, Phil was coming too, hot rush of his own seed coating the inside of Clint’s body with an almost feral growl and teeth clenching around his shoulder.

Even after the most mind-blowing orgasm, Clint was still rock hard. He could probably go again soon but he was too exhausted. The lack of sleep from nightmares and grief was finally catching up to him, and he was out soon as Phil wiped his hand off on the sheets and wrapped it around Clint’s torso.

Phil must’ve seen how tired Clint was, because before everything went blissfully black, Clint could hear Phil whisper in his ear.

_Sleep, Clint. I love you._

When Clint came to, Phil was breathing steadily behind him, his body warm and heavy against Clint’s. Clint stretched, wiggling in Phil’s arms, before he realized that he’d transformed while he was asleep. Phil was equally as furry behind him. He arched his head up to look through the window, his ears twitching.

Outside the bedroom window, the moon loomed yellow and big in the sky, and the wolf in him itched to get outside and bask in the moonlight.

Phil shifted behind him, having sense that he was awake, reached over to lap at Clint’s mane and jaw.

 _Wanna go outside?_ Phil’s voice sounded in his head.

It was a new thing that they’d discovered a while back. Not only were they able to maintain their ability to reason when they were together, anchoring each other to their humanity, they could communicate through thought in their wolf form. It was all very bizarre for Clint but hey, it worked. He’d always thought that if they ever figure out how to transform outside of a full moon, it was going to come in handy for those infiltration jobs. Phil had snickered at the idea, but Clint knew he was equally as curious.

 _Yeah_ , Clint replied, his tongue lolling out. In his human form, he’d be grinning.

They slid off the bed and moved out to the back door, where they’d set up a rope on the door handle for easy access in their wolf form.

Once outside, they trotted along the path deeper into the wood until they arrived at a small cliff overlooking the valley below.

The moon was high in the sky, casting a soft silver mist over everything. Clint sniffed around to make sure there weren’t any unwanted intruders, before lying down next to Phil, resting his nose on Phil’s mane.

A soft breeze blew across; Clint could feel Phil’s ears twitch before he relaxed into a boneless heap.

 _I love you Clint_ , Phil whispered, the emotion coming through their connection loud and clear, and for the first time in weeks, Clint felt like he was settled, anchored. Home, at last.

 _I love you too, Phil_ , Clint whispered back, and let himself snuggle closer to his lover, basking in the moonlight.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me here: http://thisiswintermute.tumblr.com/


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